


All I Had, All I Needed, All I Wanted (Was You)

by Writeonthrough (Schroederplayspiano)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schroederplayspiano/pseuds/Writeonthrough
Summary: I read a rumor that the Bellarke confrontation would be raw, emotional, and intense. What follows is one interpretation of their inevitable confrontation...





	All I Had, All I Needed, All I Wanted (Was You)

His nose brushes against Clarke’s bare shoulder as he lays beside her and wakes him. Before opening his eyes, Bellamy inhales her scent: a tantalizing mixture of Shallow Valley wildflowers and musk from her afterglow.

Then images from the night before flash in his mind: her delicate sketches of him still haunted him in their tenderness, the fire in her eyes as he threw unfair accusations at her, the quiet vulnerability in them that accompanied her confession, and her desperate longing as she reaches out to close the distance between them.

Clarke shifts in her sleep and its then Bellamy opens his eyes. Their blurriness from sleep sharpens as he scans down her body between his arms. Her short blonde hair rests on top of his arms that encompass her neck: one under it and the other resting across her chest, stroking her far shoulder. There’s a hint of a smile highlights the peacefulness on her face as she sleeps. Even with the slight upturn of her lips, her facial features remain perfectly smooth— _angelic-like,_ Bellamy observes—and smiles at the natural description.

He continues to watch her as her chest rises and falls under the flat sheet with each new breath. The simple movement sustains him for longer than he thought possible. But then again, he’s not surprised. What he wouldn’t have given for any hint of her breathing for the last six years…

Unable to help himself, Bellamy tucks his chin and places a long kiss on her shoulder. Her head rolls towards his touch and her eyes slowly blink open. Their eyes find each other, prompting small, nervous smiles from both of them.

“What did you say?” Bellamy’s whisper breaks the silence between them.

“What?” Clarke’s forehead wrinkles. “What did I say when?”

Bellamy reaches up from her far shoulder to smooth her forehead before running his fingers through her hair. “To me, on the radio every day,” he continues to whisper. “I want to know everything you said.”

Clarke’s breath catches and she tears her gaze away from him. Bellamy can feel her body tense. He returns his hand to her shoulder and begins stroking softly it to reassure her.

Once she composes herself, she turns back to him. “Bellamy—” she pleads.

“No, I know.” He pauses and brings his palm to her cheek. “I know you can’t tell me _everything_ you said or what you went through, but, I don’t know…would you consider summarizing them for me?”

Clarke holds her apprehensive expression while her gaze darts around the room, unable to stabilize on him. Bellamy raises his eyebrows, hoping to playfully plead with her and then, finally, a smile breaks through her face.

“Summarize?” Clarke laughs at the ridiculousness of his request.  “You want me to summarize 2,199 days of messages to you?”

Bellamy doesn’t laugh along with her. Instead, he says seriously, “Yes, I do.”  

She notices the love and longing in Bellamy’s eyes, begging her to open up to him—to share something, anything, of what she thought of him while they were apart-she can't help but give into his request.

Clarke holds the longing in his eyes for a moment more before blinking. “Okay,” she whispers. When she sits up a little and adjusts the pillow behind her for support, Bellamy does the same with his pillow, clinging to her every word.

Not knowing where to begin, Clarke inwardly panics—now keenly aware of her vulnerability, both emotionally and physically—and quickly pulls the flat sheet up over herself from where it had dragged as she sat up. “Uh-um, maybe I should begin where Madi left off? What did she tell you?”

“I told you what she said. Madi said ‘nothing made you happier than talking to me on the radio every day.’”

Clarke closes her eyes and shakes her head. She sighs, “I guess I can’t get mad at her for that…”

Bellamy chuckles and leans in for a kiss. Clarke smiles into his lips and captures them fervently, wishing they could stay entwined like this all morning.

It’s Bellamy who breaks the kiss, still hoping to hear about the life she tried to share with him every day. “Well, okay…why don’t we try this? How did the radio calls usually start?”

For some reason, Clarke’s face lights up and she laughs once more. “Recently?” She raises her eyebrows and Bellamy does the same in encouragement. “They’ve pretty much started with ‘here we go again…’”

* * *

_Six hours earlier._

_Madi knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this: with Clarke locked up in their house in Shadow Valley with Raven and Bellamy outside it, sitting by the fire. She turned from watching Bellamy in the firelight to Clarke and Raven cleaning up the mess in the house through the window and decided she had to do something. If Clarke wasn’t going to talk to Bellamy, she would—no matter how many weeks of extra chores it cost her._

_She marched to the car, yanked the passenger’s door open and opened the glove compartment where she kept an old, filled-up sketchbook of Clarke’s. Madi’s determination continued as she slammed the car door, marched to the junk pile of stuff that Diyoza and her men made of her and Clarke’s life for the last six years, and yanked Clarke’s radio out from the middle of it. Her hands now full, Madi turned towards Bellamy and the fire, took a deep breath, and finished her march to his side._

_Despite the ruckus she made, Bellamy didn’t notice Madi until she stood over him, out of breath. “Hi!” She said, with a little too much eagerness, when he raised his gaze to hers._

_“Madi,” Bellamy greeted her somberly. “Aren’t you a little perky for discovering your home was destroyed by strange men who wanted to kill you?”_

_“Not really. And—my home wasn’t destroyed by strange men. It was trashed by strange men. There’s a difference. You’d be surprised at how quickly damage can be repaired. You should have seen this place two days ago.” She paused, accessing him. “What took you so long to follow us?”_

_Bellamy shifted uncomfortably against the log he was leaning on. “I had to take care of a few things—”_

_“Like Octavia and Echo—?”_

_“Yes—but I still don’t know what I’m doing here because Clarke apparently doesn’t want me here and still won’t talk to me.” When Madi didn’t have any explanations for Clarke, he looked away towards the flames of the fire. More to himself than to Madi, he said, “Clarke always talked to me…”_

_“Yeah, about that…” Madi plopped down next to him, set Clarke’s radio and sketchbook on the ground between them, and declared, “These two things are for you.”_

_“For me?” Bellamy brow furrowed and crossed his arms. “Why are they for me?”_

_Madi took an exasperated deep breath. “The night we meet—In the car you asked me how I recognized you so quickly. This,” she pointed to Clarke’s sketchbook, “will answer that.”_

_When Bellamy sat up straighter, she noticed a shift in his expression: a light went on in his head, illuminating him to the magnitude of the moment.  He reached for the sketchbook and opened it to the first page where a reflection of his younger self greeted him. The world around seized to exist as Bellamy realized the love Clarke put into every line, every detail of his portrait._

_Madi started again. “Two days ago, when you and Clarke were arguing over whether or not she would take me back here by herself, you were angry that she wouldn’t talk to you—apparently, you’re still confused about that...Bellamy,” She paused and waited for him to look at her. Their eyes met, and she could see tears forming in his eyes. Still, she pressed on. “Clarke has been talking to you on this,” she pointed to the radio between them. “Every. Single. Day. you were gone. Every day for 2,199 days. Talking to you is what kept her going, Bellamy. Not me. You. Nothing made Clarke happier than talking to you every day.”_

_Bellamy could barely process Madi’s words. His gaze darted between Clarke’s drawing of him, the radio, and Madi—his pounding heartbeat reverberated through his head._

_“Bellamy?”_

_The drawing. The radio. Him._

_“Bellamy?”_

_The drawing. The radio. Him._

_“Bellamy!” By the third calling of his name, she’d won his attention. His dumbfounded expression was met with Madi’s wide eyes. Her innocent, beautiful, excited smile lit up her face in the firelight. “Well, don’t be more of an idiot.” She tilted her head towards the house. “Go talk to her.”_

_Somehow, he didn’t remember how, he managed to stand on his feet. Madi must have shoved the radio and the sketchbook into his arms because he didn’t have the consciousness at that moment to remember to pick them both up._

_Thankfully, by the time he pushed open the door, Bellamy had regained enough of it back to speak._

_“Madi gave me these,” he announced with his first step in the doorway. “I need to talk to you.”_

_Both Clarke and Raven turned from the last of the kitchen mess to face Bellamy. Raven immediately recognized his pained expression as the one that always appeared on his face at the mention of Clarke’s name for the last six years. Clarke immediately recognized the radio in one of his hands and her sketchbook in the other._

_The mere placement of the two items closest to her heart in Bellamy’s hands caused Clarke’s internal world to stop spinning. Like every other time the world seemed to end around her, however, she somehow managed to face it head-on. “Bellamy—I. Cannot. Talk. To. You. About. This. Right. Now.”_

_Too busy watching the layers of emotion swell over her, Bellamy didn’t notice his own lips trembling or heart pounding in his chest._

_The raw emotions in the room made it difficult even for Raven to breathe. “Well,” She cut through the tension with a touch of sarcasm. “I would love to witness one of Clarke and Bellamy’s infamous co-leader talks,” She gestured between them. “But I’m sensing this isn’t actually one of them. So—Bye.” she took her jacket up from a nearby chair and went straight towards the door._

_The door slam jolted both Bellamy and Clarke from their frozen positions. After a moment, Bellamy took a small step towards her, “Just for the record,” Bellamy started softly. “Nothing would have made me happier than receiving a radio call from you every day.”_

_Clarke remained silent but nodded—more to herself than to Bellamy—acknowledging the magnitude of his words and the conversation that was about to take place. Before a tear could fall down her cheek, she turned around and caught it before it spilled over. She reached for the chair recently abandoned by Raven’s jacket for support._

_With her back to him, she didn’t witness his softness harden. “I asked you multiple times how you survived, what it was like for you here, what kept you going.” He paused, still grappling with his disbelief. “Were you ever going to tell me I had anything to do it with it?”_

_Since the moment he showed up, radio in hand, whatever part of Clarke’s mind that wasn’t blank in shock was scrambling to figure out something to say. Only when words came out in a whisper did she know what her mind had decided to say, “No, I wasn’t.”_

_“What?” Bellamy took another step closer._

_Clarke turned around slowly, now with confidence—standing up straighter when their eyes met. “No, I was not going to tell you,” she declared firmly._

_He retreated for a moment in painful shock. “You weren’t? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning? Especially when I have been trying to. talk. to. you. ever since I came back.”_

_“I thought about telling you, I wanted to tell you, and then—things happened it became clear that I shouldn’t.”_

_“Things happened?” Bellamy challenged incredulously, finally finding enough strength to toss the broken radio and the sketchbook on the table between them. Clarke follows the movements, grateful to have something else to focus on. “What things?”_

_Clarke shook her head, unwilling to answer the question. “Bellamy. Yes, I talked to you every single day on that damn radio. I’m not sure what you want me to say now. Talking to you kept me sane, kept me going when I was completely alone trying to find water—or had a crappy day—or even a good one. I am not going to apologize for it or apologize for not telling you when I saw you again...As you, in fact, didn’t receive the calls—which I knew was a possibility—between your sister and Diyoza and Echo, I didn’t want to complicate anything else, not when we were working so well together—”_

_“Working so well together?” he challenged. “You took Madi and left without telling me.”_

_“I was trying to protect Madi and handle everything the best I knew how. I had to make peace with the fact that none of my 2,199 calls ever reached you. They were just my own way of dealing—”_

_“Make peace with it?” He lost his fight then, ending in a whisper. “Are you kidding me?”_

_“Bellamy—”_

_“No, no. I had years to think about all the things left unsaid between us—All the things I should have said, but didn’t. I tried to imagine all the things you would have said, but couldn’t. If I knew you were down here—”_

_“Bellamy—”_

_“Clarke. I thought you died. I mourned you. I had nothing keeping me going but your voice, in my head. Do you have any idea—” He paused, needing a moment to compose himself. “I couldn’t live knowing I left you behind. I couldn’t live without you.”_

_Clarke stepped forward and raised her voice. “I couldn’t live without you! I didn’t have a team of friends in space! I didn’t have Madi for months! I didn’t have food. I barely had water. All. I. Had. Was. You.” She caught herself at her words and they both froze—their confessions filling the limited space between them. Their chests heaved in unison. Their eyes searched each other. Something in his brown eyes, some flicker of doubt buried deep within them that she needed to expunge forever made her speak out again. This time in a whisper, “Bellamy, all I had, all I needed, all I wanted, was you—”_

_He captured her lips before she finished. She reached up around his neck to bring him closer and he firmly wrapped his arms around the small of her back. Her fervor matched his as her lips parted, deepening the kiss._

_They clung to each other, letting their mingled breaths rejuvenate them with new life. The new energy overwhelmed Clarke, who unlocked her arms from his neck to place her palms on his cheeks in order to steady herself against him.  Bellamy broke the kiss at her touch to look at her._

_Their eyes searched each other and found everything left unsaid. They remained breathless for a moment, lost in each other’s gazes and then—suddenly, Bellamy cracked a smile and Clarke released a small, joyful giggle in response._

_Mesmerized by her happiness, he raised a hand to softly stroke her cheek, watching the light grow in her blue eyes as he did so. As he studied the joy etched on her face, they both grew serious for a moment, anticipating the next move._

_His fingers drifted down her cheek to her chin, and then softly tilted upwards to kiss her again. Their kisses start off as light nibbles between smiles before they tightened their hold once more. The couple turned on the spot, allowing Clarke to lead him to the bedroom while Bellamy reached for the hem of his shirt…_

* * *

“You found a field of fresh berries while we were stuck with Monty’s algae farm,” Bellamy revels in the feeling of Clarke’s silent laugh against his chest. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Hey, maybe,” she taps his bare shoulder as he lay next to her, “Madi and I can bring you there when this is all over.”

“Hmm,” he leans down for a quick kiss. “You better. I don’t remember the last time I tasted wild berries.”

“Well, as told you before,” which is Clarke’s new way of referring to their one-sided radio conversations. “They aren’t that sweet, but they’re beautiful.”

He smiles at the description, staring at her face—still glowing with joy. As he props up against an elbow for support, his other hand brushes through her hair.

“That is—if this is ever over.” She shifts against him and he can tell she’s fighting tension. “You know, I try to stay positive—but my head just can’t figure how the only green place left on Earth will end well.” She pauses and searches his face. “But somehow, my heart knows: together, you and I are going to be okay.”

“Mine too,” he promises, stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb and moving in for a tender kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me happy ;) I hang out on tumblr as writeonthough.


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